


Death and Deliverance

by wesleyfanfiction_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: After S5 concludes, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-15
Updated: 2004-10-15
Packaged: 2018-05-31 10:19:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6466483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleyfanfiction_archivist/pseuds/wesleyfanfiction_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angel finds Wesley after the final battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death and Deliverance

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

Death and Deliverance 

Author: Dawnie   
Email: matto@aolwebs.com   
Summary: Angel finds Wes after the final battle.  
Spoiler Warning: After S5 concludes  
Rating: Pg-13 for blood, implied m/m relations.   
Disclaimer: These extraordinary characters are solely owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and company. I do not profit from them monetarily, just spiritually.  
Notes: Feedback please.  
********************************  
Angel stood in stunned silence. “Wes.” He whispered mournfully.

Illyria regarded him with blank eyes; her voice was cool and even. “Yes, Wesley will die. He had only a few mortal breaths left. I returned to resume the slaughter.” She curled her small hands into fists. 

Angel looked around in dismay. Spike’s head was hemorrhaging, though his cocky grin was firmly in place. Gunn was slumped against a cardboard box, half unconscious from his critical wounds. Illyria, detached from all humanity, waited like a panther for the next kill. All the others were gone. All the others were lost. Doyle. Cordelia. Fred. Connor’s childhood. Angel was overwhelmed with despair. “I can’t do this without Wes.” he said almost inaudibly. 

The dragon came. The fight scene ensued. The various minions of hell were driven back. Barely. 

Angel’s body was wracked in pain. His skin was burned from the dragon’s fire. Several of his ribs were broken. He was covered in deep, bloody gashes. It would take weeks, maybe months for even his resilient vampire body to heal. He turned to Spike. “Get Gunn to the hospital, there might still be time.”

He ignored the stabbing ache of his every movement; he was going to find Wesley. He focused his waning strength and kept moving through the rain soaked night.

Wesley lay prone on the floor, motionless. Angel limped towards him, holding his ribcage painfully. He knelt beside Wesley full of fury and grief. This was his fault. He had sold his friends out to Wolfram and Hart. Angel reached out and gingerly touched Wesley’s chest. He looked quiet, peaceful. And not dead. Angel lifted his head in disbelief. Wesley’s heart. He could feel it faintly beating. The rhythm was erratic. Heroes never leave the fight willingly, Angel thought with relief. 

He leaned closer. “Wes? Wes? Can you hear me? I’m here. I’m with you.” He thought he felt Wesley faintly stir.

Angel was filled with hope. Maybe he could save Wesley. No. There wasn’t enough time to get him to the hospital. Wesley would die on the way. What do I do? What do I do? Angel felt frantic. An idea crept into the back of his mind. He tried to push it down; it refused to leave. He could save Wesley, the only way he knew how. I can’t, he thought. I shouldn’t. But he knew he was lying to himself.

Angel morphed into his vampire face and ripped open his wrist with his sharp teeth. Blood gushed from the wound. Angel forced his wrist into Wesley’s mouth, silently begging him to drink. Wesley stirred again, trying to pull away. Angel pressed harder and Wesley submitted; licking and then sucking at Angel’s bleeding wrist. Angel’s vision was shaky. With his own grave injuries, it was hard to stay cognizant. He fell upon Wesley and bit into his throat, drinking deeply. The blood flowed and ebbed between them. At last Angel pulled away, exhausted and lightheaded. Wesley lay breathing shallowly, blood smeared across his mouth like garish red paint. The world grew dark and Angel embraced it.

“Angel. Angel.” a sing-songy voice called. Angel tried to move but was stabbed with the pain in his shattered ribs again. He felt nauseous and confused. Where was he? The memories of the previous night returned. The fight. The wounds. Wesley. Angel attempted to sit up, working through the agony. His eyes refocused and he saw a tall, thin figure standing before him. “Wes?” he inquired.

“Yes. But so much more.” the silky British voice informed him. Angel looked at him intently. Wesley’s clothes were disheveled and blood stained but he still looked like the dignified and good-natured ex-watcher he had known for years. 

Angel was overcome with emotion. “Wes. I couldn’t let you die. I need you. I can’t fight the good fight without you. I’ve lost so much. I couldn’t lose you too.” 

Wesley regarded him with vague contempt. “I can’t believe that you are the same vampire that he emulated all those years. He never saw you for the sniveling toad you really are. I’m glad he died before finding out. I won‘t make that mistake.”

Angel looked bewildered. “Died?”

Wesley laughed without mirth. “Yes. The Wesley you are whining piteously for is dead. His soul has found peace.” He waved his hand in the air. “I am the merely the monster you created. I have his memories and skin, but not his worshipful attitude towards you. You *should* know this Angel; you have sired before.”

Angel looked sickened. Wesley was a Champion and his soul had moved on to his eternal reward. Angel had only brought back his flesh. Wesley was really gone. He was consumed with sorrow.

The false Wesley made clucking noises in this throat. “Now, now. Don’t worry. You still have me.” His tone was scornful. “Did you know that he was in love with you? I can feel the memory. It is powerful. He never told you, did he? He believed he wasn’t worthy of your so-called greatness.” The demon’s cruel amusement was palpable.

Angel’s thoughts were a maelstrom. He gasped as another wave of torment gripped his body. His damaged ribs felt like tiny, sharp knives. His burns were torture. 

Wesley leered menacingly down at him. “Don’t fret Angel. I will end your misery. You can feed my hunger. This is a win-win situation for all parties. “ He shifted into his vampire countenance.

Angel recoiled. What was I thinking? What have I done? Vampire Wesley gently pushed him down on his back and straddled him. Angel cried out in anguish. Wesley put one finger across its pale lips. “Shhh. This won’t take long.” He sank his sharp fangs into Angel’s neck. 

Angel’s eyes rolled back in his head. The room felt like it was spinning. He groped the floor for a weapon, something to push this abomination off of him. His hand closed around a chair leg. Desperately he tugged at it until he heard the wood snap. The room was becoming shadowy. He struggled to finish this undertaking before he left the world for the final time. Gathering up the last of his strength, he plunged the broken wooden chair leg down into the false Wesley. The thing atop him shrieked; clawing for Angel. It exploded into dust. Angel raggedly choked. 

He sensed his spirit losing contact with his ruined body, seeking a higher plane of existence. One without loss, treachery or grief. Angel prayed his soul would find Wesley. His numb fingers clutched the chair leg tighter. One last mission. He thrust the makeshift stake into his dead heart.

“I loved you too, Wesley.” he whispered as his lips turned to dust and ash.


End file.
